Patrick lived in Great Britain, his wick,
But when he was sixteen and quick,
Was captured by pirates horrible,
Taken to Ireland adorable,
Where he found god, his walking stick.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016
I do not know?
Everybody is in a terrible condition and Jesus is the only antigen, everyday.
Nobody that is in this Parable can avoid sins infection but realize now Jesus destroyes sins pathogen. That makes the Lord the opposite of noday.
Somebody will learn that the Lord makes the unbearable, bearable. Sin has one affection and that will always be insurrection. Jesus taught the true Catalan, through that we know we are his cabochon. Take heart because Jesus will use his Javelin, someday.
Anybody can embody the words of the Lord. The Lord plants all seeds, that makes you wearable, tell me what is comparable when you hear something that is beyond incredible. He gives us our Direction, he takes away the disconnection. With the Lord's correction and disinfection by his resurrection the lord gave us every protection. Jesus equals submission forgiveness and love it's not about being masculine the Lord makes us examine and reexamine every ademption. When you contemplate on the beginning you will understand, Jesus created the laminin. Remember Jesus is your protector anyday.
Copyright © David Waldrop | Year Posted 2016
I reached out for the songs
you gave the sons of men
They said it heresy
and wouldn’t let me in
They were the raging valiant men of old
and no such women were I have been told
They filled the world
with their deeds and desire
And the women were decoration
for their hearth and fire
The curse of domination and pain
And how I rail against this refrain
how am I less to receive heavens song
not allowed to dance among the throng
Why should my countenance be cast down
and upon my heresy you frown
Can a woman walk with God
walk the path the ancients trod
Live a life that people laud
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Catharsis by Evan Sachs
When your heart’s passed the hard part
And made it to the sweet spot
When you beat the box
When you’ve lifted the unliftable rock and been uplifted
The gift you’ve been gifted is called beneficence by the faithful
Far from hateful
It’s being able to breathe…finally!
Well…you feel a touch
It’s much. much. much. much…
It might even be All.
Copyright © Evan Sachs | Year Posted 2016
I do not know?
OGUNLABI OLAJIDE YUSUF-NativePen 004
TIME OF THOUGHT:3:00PM
DATE OF THOUGHT:24:12:2008
Tall wall surround me
Several attempt seems impossible
It’s just too tall to climb
Ever pointed gun at the walls
By the men in uniform
Oh all eyes on me
Oh when will I see the walls behind
I have spent my days dreaming
None of these in the least
Oh sweet home I crave for
When will I have it back?
The God given choice of life
Nothing is more parampount to it
My thought is always of home.
Uniform all through days
My voice comes from no where
But behind a shut iron door with its wall like the tower of babel
My sunlight for each day strugles through a rat hole window
Yet i now cherished the beauties of the night
While I now see it faintly
Oh freedom my thirst
I would turne the hand of the seasons
For I know the days is fast approaching
The day I will step into the buzzling world
The real world
No matter my offence
I will one day go a free man.
I know a king is about to reign
I shall obtain His favour
And I shall be freed.
Copyright © Ogunlabi Olajide | Year Posted 2017
I still stand
Have a chance
Mike in my hand
Bolts metaphorically hating
Royalties with no moves
To get a sail
Back down river bends and boats
Seattle with no coasts
Trailing door knobs without a turn
Tripped Sun burn
Fake paced with properties
State faced moralities
Given sentence no warning
Handcuffs taken to another case
Back at it again
Copyright © Elisheba Yahudah | Year Posted 2016
I was in prison
and you never came.
Years and years
everyday the same.
Moaning in torment
through each endless night.
Alone in my misery
no hope in sight.
I opened my heart
and Jesus came in.
Freed me from torment
forgave all my sin.
Gave me new life
a new song to sing.
Just ask for forgiveness
and new life He'll bring.
Copyright © Lary Houston | Year Posted 2012
A man born into lesser places,
than even hell itself.
Asking for God to save him,
from the love that he has felt.
Going back to where he came from,
before he ever fell.
Wanting to do what he knows is right,
and end this wretched spell.
He’s grown so tired,
of all of these ignorant people.
They live impaired to the point of disability,
and are full of so much evil.
They are not his equals,
and that’s how he knows he’s been misplaced.
Because when it comes to heaven,
he’s had far more than just a taste.
He knows that he’s made a mess of things,
and played in the wrong place.
But he also knows that he is better,
than the sick and broken way.
So please keep faith,
because he still does.
And that’s proof that you can too.
One day it will all be over,
and God will give the chance to choose.
Copyright © Tony Brady | Year Posted 2017
Prisons fester further desecrating guilt by association
foster sacred innocence through re-association,
communion of the wanna-be saints
and Bodhisattva suffering warriors
for EarthRights Peace and Justice.
When our faith communities
feel like monoculturing monotheistic prisons
then our non-elite prisons
begin to sound more like gospel protests
against further guilt containment
through hypocritical disassociation
from the great unwashed sinners
and economic cheaters,
and politically competing liars,
and lack of polypathic lovers.
Ecology is about oikos,
habitats of and for progress
noticed in two appositional directions;
progressive enrichment of nature-spirit systems
and regressive decomposition,
heading toward death unless balance can be restored
to help our systems
become more cooperatively resilient,
from prison through cathedral
through capitols of nation-state investments.
If decomposing guilt
can grow through imprisoned associations
then no ecological surprise
that regenerative innocence of Bodhisattva Saints
can grow through polypathic
positive nature-spirit good faith communities.
If we removed more not-funda mentalistic bad faith
from GoodNews communities,
then perhaps we would become clearer
about how we each and all live love between guilt
associated with fellow prisoners
and hardy integrity of mutual trust investors.
Prophets of prison habitats
as our own defensive nation-states
grow in violence
and enslaving racism
and addictive sexism
are tragic comedians,
self-fulfilling and perpetuating
hate and fear futurists
predicting necessary further bad descending climates
of evil ecopolitical faith
and further Business As MightMakesRight Usual
guilt by disassociation from ecological wisdom.
Mentors of good faith communities,
polypathic and polycultural health outcome predictors,
about as likely to be found on death row
as in the back row of kneelers and prayer rugs.
Our loss of faith in a resilient nature-spirit future
is also our gain in bad faith resolves
to continue disassociating
from impending climates of violence
and supremacist nationalistic racism
and monoculturing sexism
inviting regenerativity of GoodNews,
sacred ecological reweavings
Suffering and guilt and grief
inviting healing of cooperative ecotherapies
from death row to front pew,
EarthTribe patriotic health
of good faith solidarity.
An anti-ecological denialist notion of systemic ego-identity
derives from over-active disassociations
from our native nature-spirit imprisoning wombs
into Left with Right
Ego with EcoConsciousness
of prisons opening revolving doors toward good faith
and fundamentalism's bad faith closed doors
against EarthTribe PolyPathic Solidarity.
To be present to our own imprisoning pain
is to grow toward communities of habitual polyculturing outcomes,
cooperative economic investment
in political solidarity,
mutual trust among all Sacred EarthTribes,
living in profoundly sacred animated forests
and full through new moon stardust skies.
Beloved EcoPolitical Communities,
where half sacred cooperatives Yang-full
also see and hear and feel
notnot half degenerating Yin-emptying
flow of nondual co-arising
Tipping Points toward TaoTime ReVolutions.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
We dance the confines of our far apart
as though the distance was a normal thing
of cages now estopping lumens' touch
in empires of imperial decree
where lawful ownership is thus allowed
of geometric shapes though air we breath
and blood pulsating does each ampere haunt
in order to preserve the ruling see.
But each time I'm denied the warmth of touch
I feel the dying of my human soul
in algorithms of a bastard psalm
now written thus a darkness could then drain
the very essence keeping it in place.
We have but hope we of the people kind
against the plasma lacking in their ilk,
but hold the ancient yearnings in our watts.
Our tears are but the echoes of the verse
that bound us in millenia now past
but since the onion skin was put to flame
or so the elders tell us in the runes,
our future is now prayers to opal ash
that once glowed with the prophets' DNA
since passed to us as chosen ones of light,
extinguished for their once brave-spoken truth.
Let's take the tinglings few that we can feel,
imagining a world of verdant past.
We'll keep the currents as the spawn of faith
and pray the vibrant land will reappear.
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017